


Hi.

by Alphabees



Series: Prompts, Ficlets, Drabbles. [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ficlet, It's the "first words they say" kind of deal, M/M, Short n sweet, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, kurtbastian, prompted on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphabees/pseuds/Alphabees
Summary: Soulmates are overrated. Neither Sebastian nor Kurt are particularly in the mood to find theirs.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/Sebastian Smythe
Series: Prompts, Ficlets, Drabbles. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776796
Comments: 11
Kudos: 116





	Hi.

Sebastian covers his mark - he always has. It’s a bitch to do, the way the damn thing curls around his arm, sharp word after word painted over his skin in a dainty font that doesn’t match them at all. It’s obnoxious and distracting, and the angle it’s at means Sebastian can’t even read the whole thing, but there’s enough for him to get the gist.

The gist being: his soulmate is kind of a bitch. A vicious, catty, can-I-speak-to-your-manager type bitch who needs an entire arm to vent. All of that venting is the first thing Sebastian will ever hear from him, and when he does, he’s going to turn on his heel and sprint in the other direction. 

Sebastian doesn’t do commitments or forevers. He does tens. Frequently.

That’s his aim for the night, at least. It’s the kind of pay-off he needs for all the concealer he’s caked his arm in-- he’s seriously looking for a large enough bucket to fill with the stuff, so he can just dunk his entire limb in it and save himself a few minutes. 

From the other side of the bar, he sees a meticulously coifed head of hair that just might be the return he’s looking for on that investment. 

* * *

Kurt’s having a shitty fucking night. 

Sometimes, he wonders if everybody with a mark as basic as his has shitty fucking nights as regularly as he does.

_ Hi.  _

Fucking  _ hi.  _

It sits just above his left clavicle, mocking him whenever he looks in the mirror.

Kurt’s been writing sonnets, stringing together poems, and rehearsing scenes of the most romantic pieces of theatre he could get his hands on since he could walk, and the best his soulmate can come up with is  _ hi? _

Not only is it underwhelming, but it also gives just about every pretty boy with a weak vocabulary and a scheming mind the chance to get his hopes up. Now, as he sits at the bar, tracing his finger over the rim of his sex on the beach (also the name of an item on his bucket list he’s beginning to think will never get ticked off) he’s thinking of the most recent waster of his time.

The worst part is, he clearly thought Kurt was stupid from the get-go - his mark, written plain as day on his wrist - was a million miles from what he’d first said, and even further from his handwriting.

As he continues to pick apart the schmuck he walked out on a few hours prior, he starts feeling better about the whole ordeal.

That is, until he hears that dreaded word once again.

“Hi.”

Kurt turns slowly in his barstool, and even though he’s a downright mouthwatering sight, Kurt is not in the mood for some dashing heartthrob with a brain like cement to mess him around.

“No,” he says, plain and simple. His knight in monosyllabic armour seems confused by it like he’s never heard the word before - he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, so blatantly taken aback that it’s almost endearing.  _ Almost.  _ With a shake of his head, Kurt realises he needs to drive the point home. “No. Not now, not today, actually-- not ever. I’ve had enough of that fucking word, and whatever it is you’re trying to pull here, I’ve had enough of that too. In fact, I think I’ve had enough of men in general, and I probably should have thought of that before I decided to come out tonight, and so if you’ll excuse me…” Kurt pauses as he stands. The man’s eyes are wide, and a gorgeous shade of green that makes Kurt regret putting the fear of god in them. “I think I’m going to go.”

Kurt makes it all of two steps before there’s a hand wrapped around his wrist with warm skin, and an urgent grip that isn’t quite enough to hurt. When he turns around to give him yet another piece of his mind it’s those eyes that stop him again. They’re as stunning as they were too seconds ago, only this time they’re… Haunted. He sort of looks like he’s going to faint.

He swallows before he says anything; Kurt can see it in the line of his throat. “I really think you should let me by you a drink.”

Whether it’s because this guy looks like he’s going to pass out if Kurt tears his hand away, or the faint tingle he feels buzzing beneath the skin of his arm, he can’t say. Either way, he nods.

* * *

At the end of the night, when Kurt leaves him with nothing more than one chaste kiss and a phone number written on his palm in a familiar dainty font, Sebastian starts to rethink that bucket idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I'm just buzzing that I managed to write something out under 1k! This was first posted on my Tumblr as a prompt fill - hope you enjoyed (:


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